


absence milks the heart grow fonder

by awkwardedgeworth



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, wherein akaashi is a pastry chef and bokuto pines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:55:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardedgeworth/pseuds/awkwardedgeworth
Summary: "He's single, your pastry man," Oikawa says as a greeting when Bokuto picks up the call, five minutes into his morning run. "I stalked his social media accounts, I don't see any mysterious spouses holding the camera in an intimate setting, no traces of kids or toys for kids—""Why are you more invested in him than I am?"wherein akaashi is a pastry chef, oikawa's social stalking skills are fearsome, and bokuto becomes a black market dessert dealer to his volleyball team
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 18
Kudos: 535





	absence milks the heart grow fonder

**Author's Note:**

> -holds book up as a shield- it's a bad pun i know!

> _mizu shingen mochi_

It's grey and raining.

He wipes away water from his face and checks his fitbit, standing underneath a cloth canopy from one of the nearby shops, scrolling through his average heart rate and kilometres ran per hour.

Then he sees him.

> _strawberry vanilla cupcakes_

There's a small pastry shop by the train station he passes by every day. The name is in some satanic cursive he can't read and the menu (from the amount of peeking he's done like the creeper Kuroo calls him) is entirely in French. It's been here for maybe half a year at this point.

He'd never step foot inside though gaggles of giggling girls walk in and out holding small, white boxes. He doesn't have a reason to enter anyway, he can't read the menu, his dietitian forbids him from straying from his preset meals now that Olympics are descending upon them and he's severely lactose intolerant. So much that eating butter-rich foods causes him to stay in the toilet for at least an hour until symptoms subsides.

He pulls his earbuds out, leaving them to dangle around his neck as he pulls the door open, curiosity overwhelming him.

A kind faced blonde at the register chirps a hello, the interior brighter than the ring Oikawa rubs into his face every day since his proposal. There are rows of delicate macarons in every pastel shade imaginable, tiny cakes that must be airbrushed with color and several normal sized cakes that glitter in the light.

"Welcome," The girl at the register says. Her name tag says 'Yachi', "Is there anything we can help you with?"

The words stumble out of his mouth.

"Do you do custom cupcakes?"

"We do," Yachi pulls out a pamphlet from below the counter. There's the sound of machines whirring behind the kitchen, he can see two dark haired men with their heads bent from the little window on the kitchen doors, "The price depends on the number of cupcakes ordered and the complexity of the design."

She also pulls out a photo album, flipping to the page with cupcakes. He gawks at it, seeing tiny, tiny fondant designs that contain so many details— like the arrangement of a wedding bouquet recreated in a small cupcake. There was one of a cupcake cut in quarters to reveal what looked like purple quartz spilling out of the inside.

"Oh wow," He says, looking at her proud, beaming smile. "I didn't realize this place was...fancy."

"It's not," She scratches her cheek, "We cater to simple, elegant designs as well. The designs you see in the album were all for competitions that our head pastry chef enters."

The kitchen door to the back swings open and Bokuto tilts his head up to see a man pushing the door with his back, arms holding a tray of round, chocolate cakes.

Bokuto swallows, he's seen him before. There was a station by the window of the shop and he would be up front, mixing chocolate over and over with two silver spatulas from time to time.

The man notices him, bowing his head, "Welcome to the shop."

"Oh hi," Bokuto manages some weird spasm with a bend of his back.

"Are you going to start on the wedding cake, Akaashi-san?"

The pastry chef, having set the tray down on the counter, scratches his hat. Bokuto sees a strand of black hair poke out like an ivy branch searching for something to curl around, "Yes, if you could lock up without me tonight that would be helpful."

"Akaashi!" Someone calls from the kitchen. The pastry man strides through the kitchen, Bokuto wistfully looking after him before Yachi clears her throat.

"So will you be putting an order with us?"

Oikawa loved the cupcakes, taking a million pictures the next time Bokuto had dinner with him, Iwaizumi and Konoha. Iwaizumi had been touched, though he wondered how much the price was.

"Not that bad actually," Bokuto mumbles, sipping more water. The izakaya is smoky and loud and hot, "It's reasonable."

"Iwa-chan! Do you think they can make our wedding cake?"

"We already have a cake!"

"But I want this one!"

The shop was only open three days of the week, and when Bokuto and Iwaizumi entered the shop half an hour before they closed, all the cakes in the trays had been bought out. There was nothing left on the shelf.

"We're very sorry, but we ran out of—" Yachi looks up, "Oh! Welcome back! Did your friend like the cupcake?"

Bokuto grins, "He did, this is his fiance with me by the way. He was wondering if you guys can make the wedding cake."

Yachi grins, "Most certainly, I'll just close the shop early, get some tea and bring some albums out!" She runs into the kitchen, shoving her head in, "Akaashi-san! Someone's here to ask about wedding cakes!"

When the same man Bokuto saw from time to time waving chocolate around in the air steps out, apron dusted in flour and hand covered in purple food coloring, Iwaizumi snickers, lowly whispering, "I see why you got us cupcakes."

"Shut up."

Akaashi sticks his head back into the kitchen to get his second chef, a man by the name of Kageyama, to finish the Provence inspired lavender cookies. Yachi disappears as Akaashi invites them around the counter, pulling out white stools to sit on, bending over the counter to pull albums once they're seated.

"Jesus even the tea here is something else," Iwaizumi murmurs, watching a rose bloom in the glass teapot. Yachi has a platter of cookies on a simple cutting board, bringing them over from the kitchen.

"They're just simple butter cookies," Akaashi explains, pulling his hat off and flipping to a new page of a small pocket notepad. All Bokuto could see was squiggles in cursive— why is everything in this shop written in cursive? "Why don't you two tell me a bit about yourselves so I can get a feel of your personalities. How did you two meet? How long have you two known each other—"

"Hang on," Bokuto swallows, gesturing with his hands to the air between he and Iwaizumi, "You think we're engaged?"

Akaashi blinks as Yachi eeps.

"Akaashi-san!" She hisses, "He bought cupcakes for his friend, the other man is the fiance of the friend."

"Ah," Akaashi turns pink, "My apologies then."

He and Iwaizumi laugh and wave it off. When the tea is poured, Iwaizumi clears his throat and begins recounting his story as Bokuto and Yachi ooh and aah over a separate album full of cupcakes and cookies beside them.

By the end of it, Bokuto is sweating, stomach knotted, as he and Iwaizumi shuffle out of the shop.

"Fuck, my stomach," Bokuto moans as soon as they've turned around a corner and the shop disappears from view.

Iwaizumi sighs, "You didn't need to eat the cookies you know."

"I didn't want to be rude!"

> _lavender butter cookie_

" _He's single, your pastry man_ ," Oikawa says as a greeting when Bokuto picks up the call, five minutes into his morning run.

He nearly trips on a patch of weeds sticking out of the ground, "What?"

" _I stalked his social media accounts, I don't see any mysterious spouses holding the camera in an intimate setting, no traces of kids or toys for kids—_ "

"How the hell did you find his social media account? And why are you more invested in him than I am?"

" _You're my best outer hitter, Bokkun! I care about you._ "

"That sounds really wrong coming out of your mouth, Captain. Is there an ulterior motive you have?"

" _Actually, do you mind going over to him and asking him to change one tiny detail?_ "

"...Really, Oikawa?"

" _I realize I don't want Seijou mint blue, I want his opinion on what color would be chic for a late autumn wedding_."

Bokuto sighs, changing his jogging route to loop around the station. He supposes he owes Oikawa for teaching him how to fine tune a killer service ace during practice, "I'll see you at practice and let you know what he says."

Oikawa chirps a goodbye, " _And let him know that I'll pay extra for changes in the design!_ "

When he slows down near the shop, the storefront is dark and Bokuto peeks through the window. They should be open today. He draws back to peek at the paper calendar posted on the shop's front window to see if they have unexpected days off. 

Nothing. As usual, they're only open three days out of the entire week. He pulls out his phone to let Oikawa know that his request would need to wait another day when someone clears their throat.

"Bokuto-san, right?"

He whirls around to see Akaashi dressed in a simple black t-shirt, joggers and white tennis shoes. It's the first time he's seen him without the white chef's outfit, hat and apron. There's a cup of coffee in his hand and a black braided cord around his left wrist.

"H-Hi!" He squeaks, before realizing that he's blocking the front door. "I-I know the store's not open, sorry to bother you!"

Akaashi pulls out his key, gesturing him to follow around the side of the shop towards the back door, "Let's get you inside, I could use some help."

"Help?"

Akaashi flicks on some lights. Shiny, stainless steel appliances gleam brightly around them. There's a small herb garden by the window, complete with a small square table just enough for two people to eat below it.

"Have you had breakfast yet, Bokuto-san?"

"Just a quick protein shake. If I'm being a bother—"

Akaashi looks up from pulling a metal skillet from the wall, eyes kind, "None at all, please have a seat. Any allergies?"

"None," Bokuto stares at Akaashi pulling eggs out of the fridge, washing his hands and cracking several into a bowl and fishing a block of cheese out of the fridge. "Oh I thought..."

"That we don't have produce because this is a pastry shop?"

"Yeah."

"We take turns making lunch for each other, so there's always some meats or vegetables on hand. Kageyama's childhood friend is a farmer and we get fresh fruits sent to us every week that I try to incorporate into our seasonal items," Akaashi pulls out a long chef's knife and begins dicing green onions, the pan warming up under a ring of blue fire. "You're on the National Team, right?"

"Yes."

"Iwaizumi-san said so over the phone. And Yachi recognized you."

"Oh, she follows volleyball?"

"My coworker, Kageyama, actually used to play back in high school," Akaashi pours the omelette into the pan and starts stirring it vigorously, "And Yachi used to manage his school team, they go way back."

"How nice."

Akaashi wiggles out the omelette onto a white plate, sprinkling some green onions on top and passing Bokuto a fork before going back to the stove to make some for himself.

Bokuto gulps nervously at the egg, knowing that the next hour will be agonizing the moment he eats it. He'd forgotten his lactose pills in his house again.

"How do you know Kageyama and Yachi then?"

"Kageyama and I trained abroad under the same pastry chef," Akaashi explains, "We roomed together and he...has the unfortunate tendency to get lost, so I always looked out for him. Then we moved back here and decided to open up a shop together."

"I've always heard that you're not suppose to open a business with a friend."

"Kageyama and I think similarly," Akaashi gives him a quick smile, "He's actually a more accomplished baker than I am, but we offset each other nicely."

"Oh?"

"He can recreate something by tasting it once, but he has trouble communicating with partners and customers," Akaashi offers him a glass of milk. Bokuto stares at it painfully, Akaashi oblivious, "Do you live around here if you jog nearby, Bokuto-san?"

"I do, just a few blocks over."

Akaashi pulls a tupper ware from a tower of containers next to the stove, opening the lid. A rich aroma of butter wafts up. The cookies were round and purple, speckled with actual lavender flowers in the dough. 

"Sometimes I need another taste bud to tell me what I'm doing wrong," Akaashi explains, offering the container to him.

" _Itadakimasu_ ," And _rest in peace_ , Bokuto thinks, taking a bite.

"The flavor is delicate," Bokuto says, feeling the butter cookie crumble in his mouth. Akaashi is listening with rapt attention, typing furiously into his phone, "The texture is good, I think, although I'm more of a mushy homogeneous type of person."

"Go on."

"Smells like butter."

"Hm, I'd hope that it would smell a bit more like lavender."

Bokuto looks at the golden color, "You were experimenting with food coloring the other day right? What happened?"

Akaashi shrugs, a half smile on his face, "The texture turned weird and I could do without the color. Do you have a favorite dessert?"

"I'm more of a..." He racks his brain, thinking of desserts that won't have him curled up in pain, "Wagashi type of person."

Akaashi cocks his head to the side, "Interesting."

"Not that your cakes aren't good or anything, but um, yeah."

"I'll let you return to your workout then, thank you for giving me some perspective. Here," Akaashi empties half the container into a cloth bag, tying it with some twine and quickly knotting it, "For your troubles."

"Oh no I can't take—"

"I insist, Bokuto-san," Akaashi smiles, holding the bag near his face. His hands smells like chocolate.

Bokuto takes the bag of cookies with a smile, letting their fingers brush.

> _warabimochi_

"Are you like, a black market dealer for desserts now?" Oikawa whispers, munching on another one of Akaashi's creations that hasn't hit store shelves yet as the National Team nibble on tiny squares of a yuzu yogurt cake with vanilla frosting and yuzu and mikan curd. Yesterday it had been some kind of anko and mochi layered cake that Bokuto could actually eat for once.

"Shh!" Their libero, Yamato, hushes them, eyes darting around wildly as if their dietitian is stalking the very floors. 

Bokuto groans, putting his head in his hands, "I can't say no to him!"

"Dude I think he's into you," Yamato says seriously, licking the curd from his finger and thumb, "Who the hell would make desserts nearly every week for you? Is he single?"

"Very single," Oikawa nods, shoving another square of cake into his mouth like a squirrel ready to hibernate.

"No that's just awkward! And shut up, Oikawa!"

> _chocolate, coffee and kahlua cupcakes_

Bokuto had gone to visit the pastry shop for his little sister's birthday, requesting tiny fondant figures of bunnies and puppies to be added. Yachi, when he picked the cake up a week later, had thrown in some cupcakes, winking conspiratorially that they were Akaashi's special boozy recipe for the grown ups attending the party.

"Ah, Bokuto-san," Akaashi sticks his head out of the kitchen when Bokuto arrives during lunch hour. The shop had been closed for half an hour at this point, but he'd knocked on the glass and Yachi had come out of the kitchen, quickly unlocking the door for him.

"Hey," Bokuto breathlessly greets. 

Akaashi leads him inside the kitchen, where Kageyama is sitting at the tiny square table, plate clean and typing away on his phone. Yachi scurries to find a chair for Bokuto.

"How was your sister's birthday?"

"It was great, she really loved the cake, thank you."

"Did you hear that, Kageyama?" Akaashi turns his head with a broad, winning grin. Bokuto's heart leapt at the sight.

Kageyama looks up from his phone and nods, a strange curl to his mouth appearing, "You're welcome."

"It was his first time making things look cute," Akaashi tells him, leading him closer to the table. Kageyama leaps up to his feet and starts stacking plates away, "He makes the actual cakes and my job is to make them look pretty."

"Your boozy cupcakes won awards though," Yachi pops into the conversation with a stool and a tray of drinks in one hand. Bokuto gets seated, the steam of milk tea wafting up from the cup. They all look expectantly at him as he nervously laughs and mumbles his thanks for the food.

He takes a sip, mulling the flavors on his tongue before he detects something, " _Oh_."

Kageyama smirks.

"Lavender infused?"

"Lavender and honey imported from France," Kageyama explains, "As well as Hokkaido milk. This is a new recipe we're giving to the cafe a few shops down. You have a good palette."

"You're giving away recipes for free?"

"Not for free," Yachi quips, "They supply us Hokkaido milk see, they have contractors. We're not a big name yet so we can't place big orders."

The phone outside rings and Yachi gets to her feet, "Oh, I'll get that."

Bokuto takes this opportunity to heft the paper shopping bag up to the table, both pastry chefs giving it a curious look, "This is a thank you for all the cakes and erm, experiments."

"Experiments," Kageyama echoes, staring at the paper bag and scooping boxes of baker's chocolate onto the table. "Oh wow."

"We just ran out," Akaashi lightly says, tracing his hand on the white chocolate box as Kageyama flips the box over to read the satanic cursive that's in French, "And it's from the expensive import place across town."

"I had help, I didn't know what to look for," Bokuto laughs weakly, "I hope you like them, you do that chocolate stuff with the spatulas right?"

"Tempering, it's called tempering," Kageyama grins down, looking at the box like Christmas came early, "Shame mikan season is over, I wonder what we can make with this?"

"Peaches are starting to appear," Akaashi hums, he turns to Bokuto with a smile, "Thank you, you didn't have to of course."

"Thank you!" Kageyama beams. Bokuto grins at both of them, savoring the sight of them cooing over boxes of chocolate like they're made of gold.

Mamiko, the dietitian, squints her eyes suspiciously over her clipboard as Bokuto and several others run around the track. She's always in a bad mood these days, gazing at them with a critical eye and making notes on their progress.

"Dude," Yamato whispers, "She _knows_. I swear she knows."

"Shut up Yamato," Oikawa grumbles. As Captain, he always leads the run with everyone else straggling half a lap behind, "She knows that Bokuto burns everything he makes and none of us can bake."

Yamato starts praying to the gods above, shutting his eyes, "I'm sorry for my actions, I'm sorry for my actions and I shall forever repent—"

Oikawa starts scuffling with Yamato, Bokuto only fixes a grin at the coaches as he remembers the half hour toilet sitting session he had earlier. He really needs to figure out how to tell Akaashi that he's severely lactose intolerant.

> _melons and kyoho grapes_

Bokuto hurries home after a grueling practice, stumbling out of the trains. The July heat is oppressive and the trains are packed to the brim with tourists attending the Games and salary man trying to ignore the fact that they have seven elbows pressing against their gut.

"Bokuto-san!"

"Yo, Kageyama," Bokuto jogs down to the pastry shop to see Kageyama surrounded by wooden crates, stuffing poking out of the panels. He sees Yachi attend to some customers inside the shop, half the cakes gone, "What are all of these?"

"Melons, do you mind giving me a hand? I have a timer set for caramel and Akaashi-san is busy tempering," Kageyama gestures to the timer clipped to the front of his apron. Bokuto places his practice bag on the ground and stacks three crates on top of each other, the both of them shuffling in and out of the tiny back door. "How was practice?"

"Good, good!"

"Oh did I tell you?" Kageyama places the last crates onto the floor and grins, wiping the sweat gathered beneath his fringe away with a swipe of his arm, "A friend of mind hooked me up with tickets to the finals, make sure you win the prelims, okay?"

Bokuto grins, "Oho! That's exciting!"

"Mhm! Akaashi-san used to play setter so it'll be nice for him to come," Kageyama reaches into his pocket for a bear-patterned handkerchief, wiping it up and down his face, "I mean I did too, but I got the tickets as a surprise for him."

"I didn't know Akaashi used to play," He looks down at the crates neatly stacked near the door to the bags of red beans and glutinous rice, "What's all of this?"

"A summer special," Kageyama squats down and gives the bags a firm pat, "We've all been brain storming how to draw tourists in and Akaashi said we should try something new, so we're going to try our hand in wagashi. But if you ask me," Kageyama smirks, looking up, "It might be an excuse just so he can make some for his favorite patron."

Bokuto turns red, "Oh."

"Akaashi-san usually plays things very safe, but ever since you visited, he's been bursting with ideas I'm excited to try," Kageyama opens his phone and pulls out a list, holding it with one hand and using his other hand to scroll down. A blur of dessert names appears, "Cheese and peach pastry with some cherry glaze, black sugar macaron with a mochi mochi texture, chestnut and chocolate mille crepes with caramelized hazelnuts and pecans."

Bokuto is at a loss for words, "Hey, Kageyama, why do you stay with Akaashi if it seems like you'd rather do other things?"

"Sometimes playing it safe is the better option," Kageyama pulls back his cellphone, "Out of all the things, only maybe one or two will be good enough to sell. It's hard to make new desserts. I go crazy for competitions anyway, so it balances out."

"I see."

"Do you mind waiting for a bit?" He leaves without waiting for Bokuto's answer and comes back several seconds later, a cup of creamy white pudding in his hand with the shop's sticker on the top, "Hokkaido milk panna cotta with a bit of white chocolate and peach compote towards the bottom. As thanks for helping me carry the melons."

"You know, my dietitian is getting really suspicious how we're all gaining weight," He accepts the pudding with a smile, "But thanks, I appreciate it."

Kageyama holds a bow as he leaves the shop, "Please come back again!"

Oikawa's wedding cake is five tiered, consisted of five different flavors and covered in little white flowers and twisting green ivy.

"So in the end, the cake is mint blue," Bokuto dryly points out once Oikawa has cried through the ceremony. They're now sitting for dinner, and though he can't exactly eat to his heart's content at the free-for-all-buffet, at least the Mamiko-approved chicken and soy milk carbonara is appetizing.

"It is _not_ , Bokkun!"

"It's fucking blue, Oikawa, your eyesight is something else," Kuroo drawls, sipping a white wine monstrosity that makes Bokuto mouth pucker. "The cake is pretty though."

"Oh my god," Oikawa gasps, eyes shining, "We never told you because you were abroad all this time."

"What? What did I miss?"

"Do you know who made this cake?" Oikawa starts brandishing the dessert fork. Bokuto sees where this is going and tries to wave his arms around.

"No! NO. SHUT UP OIKAWA!"

"Who!?" Kuroo eggs him on.

"Bo-chan's new boyfriend!"

"He is not my boyfriend," He puts a hand on Oikawa's shoulder to shake him, Iwaizumi howling with laughter. Kuroo gasps scandalously.

"Bokuto! This is better than Konoha's neighborhood gossip!"

Bokuto points his fork at him, "You shut up right now. He's not my boyfriend, we're not even dating!"

"Oh but you will be, right?" Iwaizumi laughs, "Washio's wedding is in November, maybe you'll bring him as your plus one."

"Iwaizumi I thought you were on my side," Bokuto moans, dropping his head into his hands.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Bokuto laughs as Kageyama waves at him on his way back from his morning jog, a stack of crates around him again. "What's in there this time?"

"Kyoho grapes."

"Oooh, sounds good."

Kageyama smirks, "I'll pay you with Akaashi-san's mul-naengmyeon."

"Sold!"

They're still laughing when Akaashi looks up from the kitchen island where he's tempering, a smudge of chocolate on his cheek, "Welcome Bokuto-san, congratulations on getting past prelims."

"Thank you," Kageyama goes to the stove to peer into pot, the chopping board next to him full of cucumbers, "I hope you don't mind me crashing your lunch."

"Not at all, you're not staying in athlete's village?"

"That place over in the Chuo ward? Technically we are but I like jogging around here," Bokuto checks his fitbit, "I have to be back for pre-practice warm up at 2 though. Oikawa wants us to go to some weird group yoga and meditation. How's business?"

"Booming," Kageyama says, scooping out some noodles and going to the fridge to tug a large pot out, "We have macarons that look like volleyballs, those sell out really quickly every day. Our peach jelly and assorted berries agar agar mix is also very popular, as is the chocolate and red bean daifuku that's our special of the month."

"Help yourself to food first, Kageyama, I'll take a while with the chocolate," Akaashi says. 

Kageyama turns to Bokuto, offering him a metal bowl with several chunks of broth, "Here you go. Did you see the Argentina's team's loss?"

"It's the most tragic thing I've ever seen!" Bokuto exclaims, spending his lunch hour with good food and Akaashi's and Kageyama's company. They watch recaps of the prelims on Bokuto's phone, three heads bent over a tiny screen.

Every player has their warm up routine. Oikawa becomes more obnoxious in the wake of cameras, international fans waving banners of him and his doctor husband waving lazily at him from the front seats.

Yamato wears ear plugs to block out most of the noise and mumble things under his breath. Bokuto never knows if he's chanting dark magic to activate his powers or the theme song of the original Sailor Moon series.

He practices one thing and only one thing, to receive Oikawa's serves from the other side of the court. Volleyball is a game of who can keep the ball higher in the air, and even though he's an outside hitter, spikes won't win you games if you can save the ball in the end.

> _found you_

The ceiling of Ariake Arena is high. 

He tosses the ball and does an underhand, the ball nearly reaching the ceiling before falling down. He spots the Italian team baffled, giving each other quick looks of confusion before their libero easily receives it with a solid bump of his arms.

Oikawa shoots him a look of, _do you think this is a joke?_ And _we'll have a talk later once the game is done_.

Everyone's head followed the ball. There was one little figure in the topmost stands, nearly invisible among the sea of black hair, that didn't look up.

He found Akaashi.

"Like WAM! BAH!" Kageyama's orange haired childhood friend is still squawking, his tanned arms waving like propellers. Bokuto is still riding high on gold, committee volunteers trying to herd them off the court for the medal ceremony. Akaashi and Kageyama had apparently snuck through security and are standing around him with wide, identical grins.

"How did you sneak past them?" Bokuto asks as the orange human starts vibrating, words shooting out of his mouth faster than a drunk Oikawa on fifteen shots of tequila, to a nodding Kageyama.

Akaashi shrugs, casually inspecting his cuticles, "I elbowed them. I have very sharp elbows."

Bokuto swallows, eyes darting around him to make sure that no microphones were near his vicinity as Oikawa continues to wax something about his trust in their team and the power of teamwork with Coach hanging around his shoulder.

Akaashi, always patient, "That was meant to be a joke, Bokuto-san."

"Ahaha! Listen," Bokuto starts, "I, Uh, I have a confession."

"That's interesting, me too. But please go ahead."

He panics, "You can go first!"

"I insist Bokuto-san, you just won a gold medal."

"That really has nothing to do with it, why are you so polite all the time?"

Akaashi laughs, scratching his neck, "Well..." He looks out to Kageyama trying to tip toe close enough to the hubbub of cameras gathered near Oikawa, "How would you like to go to Gunma with me? There's a flower festival there and an onsen—"

"Yes!"

> _dairy free desserts and confessions at lavande et tournesol_

"I can't believe this idiot didn't tell you he was lactose intolerant," Kuroo lounges on stool, watching Akaashi temper white chocolate for Kuroo's mother's birthday cake. It was a simple apple and rum cake that Bokuto helped made, though his only contribution was to peel the skin off, Kageyama watching him with distrust all the while as he held a first aid kit.

"He's also magically prone to cutting himself every we give him a sharp knife or peeler, how does one do that, Kuroo-san?"

"I really don't know. See, I learned how to not injure myself with knives when I was eight."

"Guys," Bokuto dryly says, cutting a carrot cake into bite sized squares, "I'm right here and I have ears."

Akaashi smiles, "Oh I know, this is all intentional."

"Wow," Bokuto grumbles, feeding Akaashi cake as Kuroo howls.

**Author's Note:**

> dont forget to wash your hands and wear facial coverings when going out!


End file.
